Punks Not Dead
by Emerald15
Summary: Just a little tired. [Rick/Vyvyan, gentle slash. Rated 'T' for swearing]


A/N: First fic for TYO, so am lil' nervous in terms of characterisation. May be slightly OOC, but was inspired by the picture of two punks sleeping next to each other. It's probably floating around on tumblr but you can easily google it. Anyywaaaaay, please enjoy the fic and leave your comments in the box below! I'd really like to know what you think

Vyvyan could feel his eyelids drooping and his head slowly falling onto one shoulder. The bus suddenly lurched as it drove carelessly over a speed bump, jerking all of its passengers into the air. Vyvyan hurriedly blinked away any indication of his tiredness. Next to him, Rick scowled as his pencil made a long line across the page during the bus' flying attempt. Vyvyan snorted before glancing away to look past Rick and through the window at the houses and pedestrians blurring by.

Today had been one of those incredibly shitty days. It started off with Neil managing to drag Vyvyan and Rick into attending their respective lectures at Uni – truthfully, Vyvyan couldn't remember the last time he'd been into the lecture hall – and then, Vyvyan had been forced to ride the damn bus there and back as he didn't have enough fuel money for his car. All of this had happened before 9AM and (even now) he was completely sober.

Now, it was God knows what time and Vyvyan was back on the shitty and grimy as hell bus sitting next to Rick (the bastard had practically thrown himself into the seat beside the window, leaving Vyvyan next to the aisle), with several textbooks resting on his lap. As he slouched a little lower into his seat, Vyvyan swore he could hear the bottle of vodka singing to him from underneath his mattress.

If only he could keep his damn eyes open…

Rick's pencil hovered over the notebook. He'd tried rubbing out the squiggly line he'd accidentally made when the bus had jolted, but the rubber stuck on the opposite end of his pencil had only succeeded in making a mass of grey smudge over some of his words.

_Goddamn fascist pencil_, Rick thought with a scowl. Typical that something as stupid as a pink rubber – probably made in a factory governed by Margret Thatcher – had to spoil the wonderful poem he'd been writing.

Rick was brought out of his thoughts by a gentle thud on his shoulder. He looked down and the top of Vyvyan's ginger tri-hawk nearly poked his eyes out. Rick almost threw himself against the window before realising he wasn't in any danger of being punched in the face.

"Vyvyan?" Rick hissed, wondering if this was all the beginning of a joke.

There was no response. The sociology student wondered if the punk was dead, but that theory was quickly proved wrong by the steady rise and fall of his chest. He'd fallen asleep? Peering at Vyvyan's face, Rick felt his breath catch in his throat at his flatmate's unusually relaxed expression. For once, it didn't hold the typical sneering demeanour or a disgruntled pout as it often did; instead, the punk appeared to be at complete ease. Rick had never seen him so calm.

Putting his notebook and pencil away, Rick sat up a little straighter in his chair, knowing that the more arched Vyvyan's neck was, the more discomfort he would be in when he woke up. As slowly as he dared, Rick then moved his right arm back then up and over Vyvyan's shoulders; all the while being careful not to jostle his shoulder too much and avoiding some of the more pointed studs.

Vyvyan mumbled something incoherent in his sleep before shifting his body minutely closer into Rick's chest. The sociology student felt like screaming and punching the air with a leap. It didn't matter so much now that Vyvyan would more than likely smack him over the head with a hammer when he woke up; Rick knew that this was going to be a moment that he would remember for a long time.

Multiple times Rick found himself watching Vyvyan's eyes move behind their lids, before quickly glancing away with warm cheeks. The bus frequently screeched to a halt at every stop, making Rick throw out a hand to stop Vyvyan's medical textbooks from sliding onto the floor at their feet. His other hand grasped his flatmate's shoulder to stop him from smacking his face against the back of the chair in front of him. More people got on the bus and a few times Rick worried that some twat would get on too loudly and disturb Vyvyan. Thankfully, no twats boarded the bus and Vyvyan continued to sleep soundly. Rick wondered how little sleep the punk must've gotten in the past few days.

Finally, the bus began approaching their stop. Rick reached over and pressed the red STOP button, which gave a polite little _ding! _as he did.

"Vyvyan! Vyvyan, wake up!" Rick hissed as he hastily shook Vyvyan's shoulder. The bus was beginning to slow down. Regardless of how much he'd enjoyed having Vyvyan sleep on his shoulder, Rick was going to kill the bastard if he made them miss their stop. It wasn't like Rick could carry him, plus their things, back to the flat either! "Wake the hell up, you git!"

"Piss off," Vyvyan grumbled as he was (in his opinion) rudely awoken.

"Get up, get up. We're nearly at the stop."

Vyvyan opened his eyes and realised his position. Looking up, he met Rick's eyes and in a flash, was sitting properly on his seat again. In his haste, his textbooks fell with a loud smack at his feet. A few of the other passengers glared at them for disrupting the silence. The two students ignored them, Rick watching Vyvyan as he picked up the books. He swore he had seen a faint pink blush on the punk's cheeks but Vyvyan kept his face turned away.

The bus driver slammed on the breaks and it was only Vyvyan's steel grip around the pole that kept him from toppling over. The punk then quickly stomped down the aisle and off the bus, leaving Rick hot at his heels and wondering why he hadn't been called a "poof" or thrown in front of a passing car.

When they reached the front door of their student accommodation, Vyvyan – who'd been one step ahead of Rick since the bus stop – paused. He turned to Rick, who'd appeared at his side, and gently grasped his wrist.

"Thanks for, you know," Vyvyan began. His cheeks burned hot as he fumbled with his words. It was an uncharacteristic display that Rick had never seen before.

Deciding to take a leap of faith, Rick leaned over and pressed his lips to Vyvyan's cheek, close to the corner of his mouth. It wasn't a chaste kiss; Rick made that clear by adding a little more pressure to the kiss. When he pulled back, he smiled coyly at Vyvyan, who looked astonished.

"Don't mention it," Rick breathed. He walked into the flat with a proud grin on his face.


End file.
